


Coming Home Again

by mangochi



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard doesn’t see Jim for the next two weeks after he’s discharged from the hospital. At first, he puts it down to the press, the politics, the crush of people and hierarchy that’s always separated them. He’s fine with it, he is, but after the fifteenth day passes and he hasn’t received any comms, any messages, hasn’t even seen Jim except for on the news, he starts to panic.</p><p>The McCoys have never handled panic particularly well, and Leonard’s no exception. He calls Spock first, though, because he still has some reasonable grasp on his sanity, and tries to get a grasp on the situation before he charges off into the skyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home Again

Leonard doesn’t see Jim for the next two weeks after he’s discharged from the hospital. At first, he puts it down to the press, the politics, the crush of people and hierarchy that’s always separated them. He’s fine with it, he is, but after the fifteenth day passes and he hasn’t received any comms, any messages, hasn’t even _seen_ Jim except for on the news, he starts to panic.

The McCoys have never handled panic particularly well, and Leonard’s no exception. He calls Spock first, though, because he still has some reasonable grasp on his sanity, and tries to get a grasp on the situation before he charges off into the skyline.

"Doctor." Spock sounds precise, unsurprised, and Leonard’s not entirely sure if he expected anything else when he called. "Is there something that you require of me?"

"Jim’s not answering my calls," Leonard answers tersely. "I just want to check up on him."

There’s a small pause, short enough that Leonard can’t quite tell if it’s intentional. Then, “May I inquire as to the nature of your concern?”

"The nature-" Leonard splutters. "I’m his  _friend_ , Spock. I’m worried about him!”

Another ambiguous silence. “I will forward the address of the captain’s residence to you, Doctor, if you are willing to grant a request of my own.”

Leonard kneads at his forehead with a hand, pushing back an encroaching headache, and sighs. “Okay.”

"If the captain wishes to know where you obtained this information, you did not receive it from me."

………..

Leonard squints dubiously at the neat text of the address on his comm, then tilts his head to consider the building in front of him.

To be honest, it’s barely that at all, with stained walls and a tin roof that Leonard doesn’t trust one bit in this day and age. The green paint on the motel doors looks like it’s peeling away right before his eyes, the tarnished gold numbers glinting feebly in the streetlights.

Leonard shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, hunches his shoulders to block the wind from his ears, and climbs the shaky metal staircase to the second floor.

The windows are dark except for the second room from the end, and Leonard stands in front of the closed door for a long moment. He can hear muffled bass beats from inside, feel it shaking beneath the soles of his hastily pulled on boots. There’s a burst of muffled laughter that startles him, high and bright, and Leonard’s stomach lurches sickeningly.

He knocks before he loses his nerve and the laughter cuts off abruptly. He puts his hand back in his pocket, squeezes his fists tight, and waits through the fading giggles and the pattering of bare feet to the door.

"Leonard McCoy," he says, as soon as the smiling face appears between the door and the doorway. "Is Jim in there somewhere? Miss," he adds reluctantly, cursing the good Southern manners bred into him.

The woman stares up at him, her dazzling grin shrinking exponentially. “Just a sec.” She promptly closes the door in Leonard’s face, and he resists the urge to kick it back open.

Jim opens the door this time, peering out warily at Leonard with one gaunt blue eye. He looks god awful, his hair standing up crazily on end and a streak of smeared lipstick slanting along his jaw. His clothes are hastily pulled on, shirt hanging open over his bare chest, and there are shadows under his eyes that’s not entirely due to the poor lighting.

"Bones." Jim’s voice is flat and unwelcome, and Leonard’s briefly taken aback. "What do you want?"

"What do I-" Leonard tries to tone down his incredulity, feeling his headache beginning to return again. "Jim, it’s been weeks. You haven’t commed, you haven’t stopped by-"

"Hold up." Jim steps back abruptly and wrenches the door open farther, letting his companion slip out in a cloud of flustered giggles and perfume. Leonard watches her go, dark hair flicking around the corner, and listens to the clanging of stilettos on the stairs.

"It’s been weeks," he starts again, then catches the edge of the door as Jim starts to close it on him again. "Dammit, Jim, listen to me!"

Jim stares up at him with open animosity, a muscle in his jaw working. After a second, he jerks his head in a stiff nod and nudges the door back with his foot. “Come in.”

Leonard steps through before Jim can change his mind, trying not to grimace at the haze of smoke and alcohol in the air. “Jim,” he says quietly.

"Don’t," Jim says roughly. He closes the door and scratches at his head, looking down at the floor. "How did you get this address?"

"Um," Leonard says.

Jim curses, low and dirty. “Spock. The bastard.”

"He’s worried. _I’m_ worried,” Leonard snaps. “This- this, screwing around, getting yourself wasted…” He flails for more accusations and comes up with more than he can possibly voice. “What the hell are you thinking?” he finally demands. “I didn’t save your damn life for this.”

"Then you shouldn’t have saved it!" Jim says, his voice too loud. It rings off the peeling walls, and Leonard feels the blood drain from his face.

"What?" he asks numbly, too shocked to register the shaking in his own voice. "Jim-"

"You shouldn’t have saved my life," Jim says again. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration, eyes looking anywhere but at Leonard. "I didn’t want…..I thought…..I was _ready_ , damn it, I wanted to-“

"Don’t," Leonard says sharply. "Don’t you say you wanted it, Jim, you don’t know what you’re saying." _  
_

Jim laughs, brittle and short. “You had no right.”

"I had-" Leonard blinks rapidly and swallows hard, feels his fists clench at his sides. "I had every goddamn right." His voice is hoarse, and it scratches painfully at his throat. _“_ Do _not_ tell me, Jim, that I had no right to save the life of my best friend.”

"I never asked you-"

“ _You shouldn’t have to_!” Leonard’s voice cracks and he forces himself to lower his volume, breathing like he’s just run a marathon. “God, Jim, do you have any idea how I felt, seeing you on that table? All I wanted was for Spock to kill the son of a bitch for doing that to you, but I needed him, because _you_ needed him. And now you’re tossing it away because you’ve got some fool idea that, I don’t know, you’re not _worth_ it, stupid-ass martyr that you are. Just because your father-” He nearly bites off the end of his tongue as Jim’s fist slams into his face, and he reels back, feels his shoulder smack against the wall.

"Shut the hell up," Jim says, low and dangerous. His eyes are glittering and overbright, and Leonard rubs at his jaw slowly before the anger starts building in his gut.

"You _bastard_ ,” he answers, and swings out. The blow is clumsy- he’s always been a terrible fighter- but it catches Jim by surprise and the kid’s fortunately drunker than a fish.

Jim staggers, eyes widening as Leonard’s fist sinks into his stomach, but then his hands are locking around Leonard’s forearm, using it as leverage to swing the both of them around.

Leonard grunts as Jim punches him again, clipping the side of his head. “I _hate_ you,” he says with relish, trying to grab Jim’s arms. “You’re selfish-” he ducks another wild swing, pops back up in time to catch one of Jim’s wrists, “-inconsiderate, annoying as  _hell_ -“ 

"Let go," Jim snaps, trying to yank away just as Leonard yanks hard. They overbalance, and Jim comes flying into his chest, cursing a blue streak as he goes. Leonard grunts and tries to ignore the pummeling in his side, wrapping his arms around Jim to restrain him.

"Let _go_ ,” Jim repeats, his voice cracking. He tries to shove Leonard away, but somehow his hands end up tangling in Leonard’s jacket and pulling him closer. “Let go, I don’t want-“

"Dammit, kid," Leonard sighs, his anger ebbing as swiftly as it rose. He tightens his grip, runs a hand down the tight muscles of Jim’s back. "It’s okay."

"It’s not," Jim mutters sullenly, but at least he’s not trying to punch Leonard anymore. Leonard keeps patting, feels Jim gradually relaxing beneath him. In fact, he practically gives up on standing on his own, and Leonard sinks down to the floor at the base of the wall, Jim kneeling awkwardly between his legs.

"I had to do it," Leonard finally says. He thunks his head back and closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Jim’s uneven breathing. The kid’s warm and shaking in his arms, but all Leonard can see is that cold body on the slab. "I had to. I’m not gonna apologize," he adds. Jim tries to raise his head and Leonard drops a hand on the back of his neck, holding him still.

"I don’t hate you," Leonard continues weakly. "I don’t hate you at all."

"I know," comes the small, muffled answer. "I’m sorry."

Leonard huffs out an amused chuckle. “For being an idiot or hitting me?”

"Both." Leonard can feel Jim’s fingers dig into his shirt, tickling along his sides. "I’m sorry I worried you."

"About that." Leonard shifts his weight, letting Jim burrow more comfortably against him. "Why?"

"Ah." Jim gives a nervous, insincere laugh. "It’s stupid."

"I figured as much," Leonard says dryly. "Anything else?"

Jim shakes his head, rubbing his forehead against Leonard’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything.

"Kid," Leonard says exasperatedly, and Jim sighs.

"I needed to make sure, you know? Check that this is real, that I made it…."

"So you vanish off the grid, get yourself a couple of drinks and a hooker, and ignore all my calls?" Leonard demands. "Jesus, Jim, are you crazy?"

"Said it was stupid," Jim mumbles. "Better than the alternative, though." Then he tenses, like he didn’t mean to say it, and Leonard cocks his head curiously.

"What’s that?" He jiggles Jim a little when he doesn’t get an answer, and Jim grumbles, sliding his hands around Leonard’s back and all but gluing the two of them together.

"First thing I wanted to do when I woke up…." Jim exhales slowly, the air hissing out from between his teeth. "When I woke up…." His hands are hot through Leonard’s clothing, tapping out a distracted rhythm against his back.

"I wanted to kiss you." Leonard feels Jim hold his breath after the confession, his body growing rigid again in apprehension. "I’ve wanted to for years."

Leonard traces the curve of Jim’s shoulder blade with a fingertip, feeling the man tense beneath him. “You’re unbelievable,” he finally says. Jim pulls back abruptly, stares at him.

"What?"

"Unbelievable," Leonard repeats. "Here, come on, I’m right here." He reaches behind himself, grasps Jim’s wrists and brings his hands up to his own face. Jim holds on automatically, his thumbs resting just beneath Leonard’s cheekbones. God, the kid’s eyes are so blue from here.

"Come on," Leonard urges quietly. "Check if this is real."

"Bones…"

Leonard leans up, covers those annoying few centimeters between their heights, and kisses him, shuts him right up. When he pulls back, Jim follows, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth pressed hard against Leonard’s like he’s afraid Leonard’s going to disappear. It’s almost flattering, in a way that wrenches at the depths of Leonard’s guts.

"Jim. Jim, look at me," Leonard says, his lips stirring against Jim’s.

"Huh?" Jim mumbles, his eyes still closed.

"Hey." Leonard bumps their foreheads together gently, enough to cause Jim’s eyes to flutter open in surprise, staring down at him. Leonard catches his gaze, holds it, squeezes Jim’s wrists tight because some part of him’s still afraid that the serum didn’t work. That Jim’s still on that table and Leonard couldn’t do a damn thing to save him. "I’m here."

"Yeah," Jim breathes, and Leonard almost misses the glistening in his eyes until something warm lands on his cheek. "Yeah." And then Jim’s surging forward again, blocking out the light, and Leonard smiles.


End file.
